


scared of the lonely arms (and maybe, just maybe I'll come home)

by leftshoelace



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bisexual Finn (Star Wars), Bisexual Poe Dameron, Bisexual Rey (Star Wars), Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hair Brushing, M/M, Multi, POV Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftshoelace/pseuds/leftshoelace
Summary: winter shall howl at the wallstearing down doors of timeand promise me thisyou'll wait for me onlyscared of the lonely arms
Relationships: Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	scared of the lonely arms (and maybe, just maybe I'll come home)

**Author's Note:**

> so I finally got round to watching star wars— prequels, originals, AND sequels. my polyam ass was vibing w the connections between Finn, Poe, and Rey, and thus this one-shot was born. enjoy?
> 
> also bogman if you're reading this, pls accept this as an apology for not finishing any of the other one-shots i said i'd finish.   
> hope u like it   
> <3 Reef

Time was never certain in the deep vastness of space. Even when settled on a resistance base, time was entirely arbitrary- every planet spun at different speeds. 

The base's overhead lights would turn on at the same time every 'morning' and dim down to a soft glow sixteen hours later. Between planning attacks on First Order fleets and repairing damaged X-wings, sleep was the only downtime resistance fighters got. And even then it wasn't always guaranteed. Constantly planning and replanning and scrapping of ideas— too many losses, too high a risk, is the intel a setup? too many variables, never enough hours in a day to sort them all. It was rare that Commander Poe Dameron found himself sleeping before the early hours. 

It had been a rough 24 hours. False intel doomed their plans from the start, and too many lives paid the price for it. Guilt weighed heavy on Poe's shoulders. Dead on his feet, he trudged to his quarters, ignoring the orders of his general to remain for debriefing. He knew what had happened far too well; he didn't need to relive it. 

As the doors to his quarters slid open with a soft _hiss_ of hydraulics, Poe saw a flash of worn-out blue denim and the swoosh of off-white robes. Open arms welcomed him into a safe embrace, enveloping him in warmth and calm and familiarity. The bitter-sweet smell of sweat and industrial detergent and resistance-sanctioned soap littered the shoulder of Finn's jacket— _his_ jacket, the one that Finn wore so beautifully. He took a deep breath in, fingers knotting in the material of Rey's robes, and tangling in the baby hairs at Finn's neck. 

Rey was the first to speak, pulling back from Poe's grip and brushing his sweat-matted hair away from his face. His skin was caked in dust and dirt from the fight and debris, suffocating him in his very skin. He hated it. 

_"what do you need?"_ she murmured, her cool palms brushing against his hot face. He closed his eyes at the sensation, leaning into her hand.

He wasn't quite sure how to answer. He wanted to shower and to sleep and to cry and to break something and to burrow his face into their shoulders and block out the entire universe. Just him, and them, and the smell of home. 

So he answered honestly. 

"I don't know,"

Rey gave him her signature gentle smile and guided him to sit at the edge of the bed that spanned most of the room. The three of them had pushed their cots together to form a bed the three of them could share. The mattresses dipped in the centre, a permanent imprint of the way they'd sleep, entwined with each other. 

Somewhere along the line, Rey had gotten a warm damp cloth and had begun wiping at the grime on his face, dabbing away the filth that choked him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he settled into the hand Rey had placed beneath his chin to hold him steady. She was always so steady, so constant. Rey was always Rey, even when she didn't know what that entailed. 

With one last swipe down his cheek, Rey stepped away, and Finn took her place, pressing a large resistance-standard sleepshirt and clean pair of boxers into his hands. Finn's touch was gentle, his blaster-calloused hands grounding and sturdy. He tugged every piece of clothing once, twice, asking for silent permission to remove it. Each time, Poe nodded. He lifted his heavy arms, felt the material pass over his skin, exposing him to the cool temperatures of the quarters. A trail of goosebumps rose across his flesh, swiftly soothed by Finn's warm palms, and the soft, worn feeling of a shirt that had been washed within an inch of its life. It reached his thighs, which were the next body parts to be bared— two tugs, a pause, a nod. He stood on tired legs to lift the boxers over his hips, slumping forward to lean against Finn's broad frame. Exhaustion flooded his bones, pulling on his eyelids and filling his head with weighted sawdust. 

Rey's steady touch returned soon after, leading him to the centre of their bed, where the two curled around him. Rey's hand found its way into his sweat-damp curls, nails scratching soothingly against his scalp, brushing away the tangles his helmet always left behind. He buried his face into the crevice of Finn's neck, the juncture of shoulder and throat, and breathed in pure Finn. _Finn, Finn, Finn,_ Finn who saved his life, Finn who loved him in his entirety, Finn who knows what he needs when he can't figure it out himself. 

Rey's forehead came to rest between his shoulder blades, a grounding pressure, the feeling of her arms coming to rest on his waist, reaching for him and beyond him, fingertips intertwining with the man beside him. She was soothing. Warm in her core, cool to the touch, a perfect balance. Her desert years left her colder than most in the resistance, and, gradually, as small twitches and tremors began to shake within her, Poe sat up, pulling her betwixt the two of them. They pulled their blankets up to their shoulders, enveloping each other in a warmth that radiated safety, home. 

Poe took a deep breath in, settling his face against Rey's shoulder. She always smelt like heat and sleep and motor oil. Poe couldn't get enough of it. 

The days were long in the resistance; the nights were longer, and there was never a promise of tomorrow. 

But there was always a now. A present moment. 

And now, Poe decided, even if time was never certain, the people slowly nodding beside him were. 

And that was enough. Right now, that was enough. 


End file.
